


Everything I Ever Needed to Know, I Learned In High School

by sunstarunicorn



Series: Magical Flashpoint Side Stories [22]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fresh Start, Gen, New School, best of both worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18551071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Transferring to a new school is never easy; transferring after your last school decided you were a dangerous monster is almost impossible.  One thing’s for sure: there’s no going back now…  A Magical Flashpoint Side Story





	1. St. John’s

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. It follows "Will to Act" and comes before "Proving Ground – Auror Academy".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

The problem with finding a new – tech-side – school for two kids who’d spent most of their lives – and their entire educational career – in the magical world was transferring their _school_ records.  Tech-side schools were unlikely to be impressed by O’s or EE’s in such subjects as Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, or Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Nor were tech-side schools likely to accept his assertion that the kids _had_ been in school without the paperwork to back him up.  He’d find himself on the wrong end of a Child Services investigation in no time.

Although the Toronto School of Magic _did_ offer tech-side subjects, Greg had no idea how to get a tech-friendly transcript of his _nipotes’_ grades in those subjects.  But keeping his _nipotes_ out of school indefinitely _wasn’t_ an option, so the Sergeant set about trying to track down information about school transfers.

* * * * *

Giles Onasi waited until Parker was done explaining what he needed.  The Auror bit back old regrets and longings as he focused on the situation at hand.  “Okay, take this with a grain of salt, Parker, ‘cause I don’t have school-age kids,” he began, earning a slight grin for his successful use of the techie turn of phrase.  “But most of the time, transfers only happen when kids have to move.”

“Like when Lance and Alanna first came here?” Parker inquired.

Giles nodded.  “ _Exactly_ like that,” he confirmed.  “If a Muggleborn leaves the magical world before their OWLs, their wand gets snapped and their entire family gets _Obliviated_.”

“They do?” the Sergeant demanded, stiffening in outrage.

The Auror resisted the urge to hang his head in shame.  “Yeah, they do, Parker.  It’s part of the Statute of Secrecy and it’s the same no matter _where_ you go.”

New worry entered Parker’s eyes.  “Then Alanna…”

Onasi snorted.  “They’d have to find her first,” he opined.  “Don’t forget, Simmons took the Trace off her, so they don’t have a ready way to track her any more.  Plus, regardless of public sentiment _or_ the laws against Wild Mages, they’re both still purebloods.  _No one_ is going to _Obliviate_ an underage pureblood scion of an Ancient and Noble House.  They’d get crucified by all the _other_ pureblood families.”

For a moment, Parker considered that carefully.  “Just another one of the differences between how purebloods are treated versus how tech-borns are treated?”

“Pretty much,” Giles acknowledged sadly.  “I’m not saying it’s fair, but at least this time it works in your favor.”  He cleared his throat.  “Now, Lance is past his OWLs, so none of this applies to him.  Once you get past the OWLs, only a criminal conviction results in a snapped wand.  _That’s_ the same _regardless_ of blood status.”

“Copy.”

The Auror sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair.  “As for transferring records between the worlds?  I don’t have a _clue_ how’d you go about doing that.”  He considered for a minute, thinking hard, then tilted his head to the side, ever so slightly.  “Maybe…maybe ask Gringotts?”

Parker’s expression turned startled.  “Why them?”

More sure of himself, Giles warmed to the idea.  “Because Gringotts is _the_ link between our worlds, Parker.  They handle all the currency conversions and I’ve heard they invest pretty heavily on _your_ side of things because they’re barred from investing in the wizarding world.”

“Barred?  Why?”

A shrug.  “Probably has to do with the Goblin Wars and the typical entitled pureblood Lords running the show over in England.  Don’t know the details, but those treaties were set _centuries_ ago.  Gringotts may not like it, but they follow contracts and treaties to the _letter_.”  At the arched, skeptical look, Giles gave the other man a rather limp smile.  “As for why, well, welcome to the magical world where we hold grudges until the end of time.”

“Now that,” Parker muttered resentfully, “is why I’m happy I don’t have enough magic to be a wizard.”

As he left, Giles blinked after him.  Parker had magic?  Since when?  It never occurred to the half-blood that as a descendant of a magical family, of _course_ the SRU Sergeant had _some_ magic.

* * * * *

As it turned out, Silnok had anticipated Greg’s visit, though the goblin was _highly_ amused that it had taken Parker so long to realize that Gringotts could help him with transferring the young Wild Mages to a school well outside the magical world.  In addition to techie-friendly school records, Silnok had already assembled a list of public and private schools for Greg’s consideration.  Each of the schools had already been vetted and were ranked according to the goblin’s impression of them.

Once back at home, Greg read through the list as well as the extensive notes.  He groaned as he read them…that Silnok was being _picky_ was a severe understatement.  In the end, Greg narrowed his final list of schools down to ten of the closest schools – Silnok had neglected to take into account the _travel_ time between Greg’s apartment and the schools in question.

* * * * *

It took another week or so of poking around, asking questions, and investigating the schools before Greg was ready to settle on a choice.  The Sergeant gave silent thanks for the fact that the Calvin Family vault would pay for all the school expenses – _he_ would never, on his own, be able to afford the small, but elite private school he’d picked out for even _one_ of his kids, never mind both of them.

* * * * *

Greg made his way through the hallways of St. John’s School as he walked towards the main office.  He’d called ahead and made an appointment with the principal, but his steps were lagging just a bit the closer he got to his destination.  _Was_ it fair to make his _nipotes_ start over instead of just ‘home schooling’ them via Shiloh?  Except…he already knew Shiloh couldn’t teach his kids non-magical subjects…they didn’t have the time or staff for every _magical_ subject, much less the non-magical.  But dropping the non-magical subjects _wasn’t_ an option, especially in the wake of his _nipotes’_ ostracization in the wizarding world.  No, the negotiator decided again, his best option was to enroll them in a tech-side school and have them study magic during the evenings and weekends.

The Sergeant straightened his shoulders, hiding all his remaining doubts and fears behind his well-practiced negotiator mask.  Showtime.  He picked up his pace and strode into the school office, immediately turning to the secretary’s desk.  The gray-haired woman looked up from her paperwork with a smile.  “Can I help you, sir?”

Parker returned the smile.  “I’m here for a meeting with,” he double-checked his notes, “Principal Kahl?”

“Oh, yes,” the secretary confirmed, glancing down to her appointment book.  “Mr. Parker, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the Sergeant acknowledged.

The slightly plump woman rose, moving around her desk and up to the counter; her guest bit back a smile as she stepped up on a platform behind the counter to be on his level.  She leaned out, Greg shifting back to give her room, and pointed to a door in a short hallway on the opposite wall.  “Go right in, Mr. Parker; she’s expecting you.”

Hiding his last-second nerves, Greg moved smoothly to the door and knocked twice before opening it.  Inside, a woman with dark gray hair looked up from her own paperwork.  At first glance, she looked like a no-nonsense, severe woman; behind her wire-frame glasses, her light gray eyes were stern and her slim face was lined with more frown lines than laugh lines.  A closer look revealed a slight hint of humor, one the woman’s students likely never would’ve believed she possessed, and the negotiator had an immediate impression of a woman who was, at her core, fair and unbiased.

“Principal Kahl?” Parker inquired, offering his hand.

She rose from her desk, shaking his hand firmly.  “Yes.  I assume you’re Mr. Parker?”

“I am,” Greg agreed, giving her a slight smile.

Principal Kahl returned to her seat, shuffling through her papers and pulling one out to write on.  “I understand you’re looking to enroll your…” she glanced down at the paper, “…wards in our school?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Are they both the same age?”

Greg shook his head.  “They’re two years apart,” he explained.  “Lance turned sixteen a few weeks ago and Alanna is fourteen.”  He sighed, not looking forward to the verbal twist, bob, and weave necessary to keep magic out of his explanation.  At the last second, he opted for a simple, straightforward, “It’s a long story, but their current school isn’t an option anymore, so I need to transfer them before the next school year starts.”

Caution entered the principal’s eyes.  “Expulsion?”

“No,” Parker replied firmly.  “My kids haven’t done anything wrong, Principal Kahl.  It’s a bad situation and I need to get them out before it gets worse.”  He considered a moment.  “Lance might be somewhat behind in his schoolwork – he had a nasty car accident on his birthday – but overall their grades are good.”

“May I?” the principal inquired, reaching forward.  Greg handed her the techie-friendly transcripts without a qualm.  He waited as the woman read through them, her expression thoughtful.  When she was done, she considered a few moments longer.  “This looks like they were struggling at one point, although they’ve gotten much better.”

The negotiator inclined his head.  “That’s correct.  When they first moved here, there were a few bumps in the road and a couple subjects they’d never had to take before.”

Principal Kahl put the transcripts down and rummaged through her desk for several moments.  “Well, we have two options, Mr. Parker.  We can have your wards take placement tests and see where they’re at right now.  Based on their grades, they shouldn’t have any trouble testing back into their current grade levels.  Or you can choose to enroll them in our summer school and we’ll assess them as part of the summer school program.  When the school year starts, they’ll be placed in their grades according to the summer school results.”

It was Greg’s turn to consider as the principal handed him the paperwork on the school’s summer school program.  On the one hand, his _nipotes_ would lose out on a good chunk of their summer…through no fault of their own.  On the other…

While the Toronto School of Magic _had_ techie courses, Greg hadn’t been all that impressed by the homework he’d had the opportunity to look over.  The _best_ he could say was that the courses were out-of-date.  He’d collared as many members of his team as he could into giving his _nipotes_ better, more up-to-date information, but there had only been so much he and his team could do.  Spike had tracked down some educational computer programs from the 1990s – ironically, the games had been leaps and bounds ahead of anything the kids were learning at the school, a fact that left the Sergeant _highly_ unimpressed.

Here and now, Greg could start _fixing_ the problem.  Give his kids a _real_ shot at being able to live tech-side, rather than having the techie world dangled in front of their noses, only to be snatched away because their schooling was mostly magic, coupled with a few rudimentary tech-side lessons.  And if it cost his kids a summer…maybe even _more_ than one summer…well, they’d be better off in the long run.

The negotiator looked up at the principal, a gleam in his hazel eyes.  “Let’s do the summer school.”


	2. Summer School

Lance and Alanna trailed into their new school with wide eyes and stiff muscles.  The idea of a fresh start appealed, but losing the majority of their summer most decidedly did _not_ appeal.  Worse, from their perspective, this new school meant losing precious, invaluable time from their on-going efforts to keep their Uncle Wordy in the SRU.  At least, that was what both teenagers kept telling themselves.  In the back of their minds, the siblings fully expected that if their new classmates _ever_ found out just how different they were…  Well…they’d just have to make sure _no one_ found out.  Never again.

Just inside the school, a teacher waited for them.  She was tall and slender, with her dark blonde hair cut short, but full.  The hair framed her face as well as the horn-rimmed square glasses she wore.  Her smile was broad and she had a friendly look; a woman well-used to working with children and gifted in understanding those children.  “Hello there,” she greeted the pair.  “I’m Mrs. Hackelburg.  You must be Alanna and Lance.”

Alanna shifted back, going shy as she usually did when meeting new people.  Although Lance was normally bold enough for both of them, he shifted back as well, uncertainty and doubt shimmering in the depths of sapphire eyes.  “Yes, ma’am,” he offered up.

“Well, come with me and we’ll get you set up with the initial placement tests,” Mrs. Hackelburg informed them.  “Once we have a better idea of where you are right now, we can start working on the rest.”

* * * * *

Neither sibling did all that well with the placement tests, a fact that dropped their confidence levels close to zero.  Alanna huddled into her brother’s side, trying not to sniffle.  She’d done her best, but the questions had been so _hard_.  She knew it had been worse for her brother; he was wearing the mask he’d picked up from their uncle…his best imitation of their uncle’s negotiator mask, which Lance always used when things went south.  And his frame was stiff with tension and no small amount of fear; what if the teachers thought they – or their uncle – had faked their transcripts?  What if the teachers figured out _which_ school they were transferring from…was their fresh start over before it had even begun?

Tension spiked when Mrs. Hackelburg led the school’s principal into the room.  The principal studied them, observing the fear neither teenager could hide.  For close to a minute, silence hung and tension coated the room in fear thick enough to choke on.  Then the principal sighed.  “Well, you’re both much further behind than we expected.”

Lance nodded once.

Principal and teacher exchanged looks, then the principal spoke bluntly.  “At this point, you both need individualized lesson plans if we still want to get the pair of you into the grades you _should_ be in.  For now, we’ll keep you both together and start with the basics.”  Her gaze was stern.  “ _If_ you want to stay in your current grade levels, you’ll have to put in the work; it won’t be easy.  Not in the least.  You’ve both tested to as being a bit between third and fourth grade rather than eighth grade and sophomore.”

The siblings cringed simultaneously, their faces red with shame and embarrassment.  It took a moment for Lance to find his voice, then he looked up, the beginnings of rock-hard determination under the shame.  “What do we have to do?”

Principal Kahl inspected her school’s newest students, not missing the fact that young Alanna’s expression mirrored her brother’s.  Well then.  She let the moment hang just a touch longer, then started outlining the siblings’ summer school schedule, as well as her expectations for their progress if they _truly_ intended to be a sophomore and an eighth grader by the end of summer.

* * * * *

Holly Hackelburg watched as her temporary students worked on their latest assignments, doing their best to cram years of school into one summer.  It wasn’t possible to get them totally up to speed, but the idea was to get them far enough that they could keep up with their classes and homework during the school year with additional afterschool tutoring to bolster the classroom material.  If they were still behind by next summer, Holly was confident that they could finish catching up with their classmates then.

All of this assumed that the pair would keep up their side of the bargain and put in the work necessary, but their guardian had made it clear he would keep on top of his charges at home.  There had been a bit of rebellion the first week or two, but the teens appeared to have settled down and they were both working hard.  Holly considered her latest notes; her boss had asked for daily reports on the pair once they – and their guardian – had agreed to the heavy workload following the dreadful results on the assessment tests.

She knew Lynn had done a bit of checking around, trying to solve the mystery of how two students with As and Bs on their transcripts could do so poorly on the assessments – the answer hadn’t been all that impressive to either of the two teachers.  In short, the teens’ prior school was one of those schools that was more interested in _looking_ good than actually _teaching_ their students.  It was an extraordinary disservice to the students in Holly’s opinion.  By giving the students grades they hadn’t earned – or worse, teaching them material from a lower grade level – the school was essentially handicapping their pupils.  Most damning of all, the pupils graduating from _that_ school wouldn’t discover they were behind until it was far too late…at best, they’d spend years catching up; at worst, the rest of their lives would be affected by _that_ school’s ineptitude.

Neither Lance nor Alanna were willing to talk about _why_ they’d had to transfer out of their prior school, but Holly didn’t care what their reasons had been.  Not any more, at any rate.  Oh, certainly she’d wondered if had been a discipline problem during the first couple of days, in spite of Parker’s assertions to the contrary, but as her new students worked hard and turned in some of the best handwritten work she’d seen in many, many years, she’d come to the firm conclusion that all these two kids needed was a _chance_.  A chance to show what they could do, what they could be, and how hard they were willing to work to get there.

“Mrs. Hackelburg?”

Holly looked up at Alanna, smiling at the young girl’s uncertain expression.  “Yes, Alanna?”

Alanna slid her book onto the desk and pointed to one of the questions.  “I, um, I went through the whole chapter again and I can’t find where it talks about this.”

“Well, then, let’s see what we can find,” Holly replied, focusing in on the question and putting her daily report aside.

* * * * *

Clark blinked in surprise at the textbook Lance hauled out of his backpack.  The slightly younger teen saw his expression and flushed bright red; they both knew the math book was intended for _fifth_ graders…not someone supposedly about to start their high school sophomore year.  “Wow,” Clark observed, “Your uncle _really_ wasn’t kidding, was he?”

Lance shook his head, staring at the ground.

“Guess we’d better get started then,” Clark decided, smirking at the shocked look on his ‘cousin’s’ face.

“W-what?”

Clark tilted his head to the side.  “You’re behind ‘cause your magic school was lousy at tech-side subjects, right?”

A cautious nod.

The curly-haired teenager shrugged.  “Not your fault the wizarding world prefers living in the medieval era.  Just means it’ll take longer to get you up to speed.  So we’d better get started on that, yah?”  At the other boy’s almost blank expression, Clark rolled his eyes.  “Look, I’m still mad you didn’t tell me about all this magic stuff and I _totally_ have a ton of questions, but all that can wait.”  He hauled the wizard over to the kitchen table, snatching the math book away to plunk it down on the tabletop.  “Okay, what’s giving you fits right now?”

* * * * *

Alanna hissed in fury at her computer screen and pushed away from the laptop, stalking away from the table as she vented her anger with soft bird-like shrieks, her fingers flexing as if they were talons.  Rather than calm her down, the pacing only agitated her further; her computer might’ve suffered the consequences, but fortunately for the innocent machine, Spike chose _just_ that moment to turn up, a playful grin on his face as he leaned into the conference room Alanna had commandeered.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” the bomb tech asked, his eyebrows flying up at the fuming, almost enraged expression on the young girl’s face.

“ _No_ ,” Alanna snapped, running a hand through her hair and pointing at her computer.  “I can’t do it, Uncle Spike!  I tried and tried, but I can’t do it.”  Frustration welled up, replacing anger.  “I’m just too stupid!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Spike interrupted, waving his hands in an emphatic ‘time-out’ motion.  “No insulting my favorite niece there, ‘Lanna.  No one gets to do that, not even me.”  It took a few moments, but Alanna came to a halt in the center of the room, her violet eyes wet with tears as Spike moved over to her laptop to inspect the source of the trouble.  The bomb tech shook his head as he regarded the screen.  “Come here, ‘Lanna,” he ordered softly.

The girl sniffled, but obeyed, sliding into her seat again, her eyes going wide with surprise when Spike dragged another chair over and sat down next to her.  He indicated the word puzzle on the screen.  “How many times have you tried?” he asked gently.

“Four,” Alanna reported with another sniff.

The bomb tech sighed to himself.  “Listen, ‘Lanna, you’re not stupid and you’re not doing anything wrong.”  He watched his niece’s face as he spoke, then quietly asked, “Okay?”

“Then why can’t I figure it out?” Alanna cried.

Spike’s expression turned a bit sardonic.  “ ‘Cause whoever came up with this puzzle was an idiot.  Solving it is more about _luck_ than anything else.”  The constable watched as the redhead hid behind her hair, clearly unconvinced.  “Listen, ‘Lanna, how about I help you out?  See if we can crack this together?”

“Okay.”  The young girl’s voice was trembly and still on the edge of tears, but her inner steel was peeking through.

In the end, it took the pair another five attempts before they got through all three puzzle ‘doors’ in the game – both breathed a sincere sigh of relief when the game’s ending scene started to play.  After it finished, Spike popped the CD out of the laptop’s drive without a word and replaced it with another game.  “It’s the same series,” the tech explained as he pushed himself back, “But it should be a lot easier.”  He grinned.  “The puzzles are more about logic than luck.”

As the screen came up, Alanna made a face.  “It’s for _fourth_ graders,” she complained.

Spike’s grin grew wider.  “Don’t knock it till you try it,” he chided.  “I grew up on this stuff, remember?”

Wide violet eyes lifted.  “ _You_ played these games?”

“Sure did,” Spike confirmed cheerfully.  “Had to dig ‘em out, but they’re better than most of those textbooks you and Lance were learning from.”  He tilted his head to the side.  “Come to think of it, they’re better than most of the textbooks _I_ was learning from, too.”

“Gonna give her _Oregon Trail_ next?” Sam asked from the doorway, a smirk on his face as he leaned against the door jamb with his arms crossed.

Spike reared back in mock horror as he spun his chair around to face the sniper.  “You doubt me?” he demanded theatrically, clutching his chest.  “ _Deny_ the Boss’s _nipotes_ the wonders of _Oregon Trail_?  Perish the thought!”

Alanna arched a brow at the dramatics.  “That bad, huh?” she quipped dryly.

Both men roared with laughter.  As Sam folded over, catching his breath, he choked out, “Did you ever have the wagon go over in the middle of the river?”

Spike shook his head, his eyes dancing with memories.  “Nope, I usually had it go through the ice,” he admitted.  “Or everyone died of scurvy.”

When Greg came looking for his men twenty minutes later, he found them cheerfully trading _Oregon Trail_ and _Mavis Bacon Teaches Typing_ horror stories, with an avid Alanna listening in the background.


	3. Eagles Fly Together

Grant Taylor took advantage of Brooke’s chatter to covertly study the Squib-born Sergeant settling into a chair in his office.  There were lines of tension in the officer’s face that hadn’t been there before and he held himself rigidly enough that Grant instinctively knew his guest was – consciously or unconsciously – expecting the worst.  When Brooke’s words died away, Grant leaned forward and asked, “How are you guys holding up, Greg?”

Hazel sharpened, searching for any hidden traps or barbs.  Then some of the built up tension drained away.  “We’ve definitely been better, Grant.”  A wan smile.  “ _Mio nipotes_ are holding up better than me, that’s for sure.”

Taylor allowed a soft chuckle.  “Kids do that,” he agreed.  Then he sobered again.  “What brings you out to Shiloh today?”

Parker stiffened up again.  “I was hoping to get _mio nipotes_ back into Shiloh’s dueling classes.”

“Just dueling?” Brooke questioned.  “Or something more than that?”

The stocky man’s expression turned impassive and he flicked his gaze to Brooke, then away.

Grant restrained his wince; apparently Parker had either forgotten – unlikely – or he mistrusted wizards in general after the wizarding world’s reaction to his charges.  He cleared his throat to draw attention back to himself.  “Greg.  When Brooke told you we’d help you out in any way we could, we meant it.”  He held the other man’s gaze.  “Tell us what you need.”

For an instant, uncertainty spiked higher.  Then the Sergeant smiled.  It was a small, thin-lipped smile, but a smile nonetheless.  “I need a place where _mio nipotes_ can learn magic without worrying about being attacked because of their Wild Magic.”

Grant returned the smile.  “We can do that.”

* * * * *

The first lesson was utterly nerve-wracking, no ifs, ands, or buts.  The teenagers were so tense that even the slightest _hint_ of displeasure was enough to put them right on the edge of fear and panic.  Grant, therefore, swiftly changed his approach to sticking with magic the two already knew, coaching them on precision and efficient wand movements rather than working on new spells.  He also stuck to Latin spells, only urging them towards their family magic at the very end of the lesson.  Once the lesson was over, Grant saw the pair onto the Knight Bus, then headed straight for his office to dig out his hidden bottle of Firewhiskey.

He slumped in his chair, discouragement in every line of his frame.  What a mess.  It was going to take weeks, if not _months_ , to undo the damage caused by a group of careless, ignorant, know-nothing wizards who thought it was perfectly fine to target two _teenagers_ for the ‘crime’ of being different.  Worse, Taylor was no longer sure if the two could be part of his school’s dueling team – he’d poked around a bit, but he hadn’t been able to devote more than an hour or two to his investigation.  If they _couldn’t_ be on the dueling team, simply because their magic was different, it would be yet another blow to their confidence, faith, and trust…a blow Grant was already dreading as inevitable.

As the wizard sipped at his Firewhiskey, he set his mind to plotting out the next few lessons.  Until the siblings regained their confidence and started to trust him again, he couldn’t really _teach_ them, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him from trying.  Although he wasn’t an expert in child psychology, the wizard was reasonably confident that if he could get the teens to regard Shiloh as a safe location, he could overcome their current paranoia and move them forward.

“Grant?”

“Hey, Brady,” Grant replied without looking up.

His employee fidgeted until the dark-haired man _did_ look up, annoyance flashing across his face.  Before Grant could demand that Brady spit out whatever was bothering him, the squat man did.  “Are they going to be in the regular classes again, Grant?”

Grant considered, then shook his head.  “They’re too scared for that right now, Brady,” he admitted quietly.  “It was almost like they were waiting for me to snap and _attack_ them or something.”

Brady reared back in surprise, then his eyes turned thoughtful.  “What if you had them join my class for half of their lesson?” he offered.  “Maybe they need to see that not everyone is going to turn on them because of ancient history.”

Taylor tapped his fingers and was about to reply when Brady’s choice of words registered.  His head came up slowly, a warning glint in his eyes.  “Ancient history?” he inquired with an edge in his voice.

The other man froze.  “Ummm…”

“ _You_ told _me_ you didn’t know anything about why the wizarding world would turn on these two kids,” Grant accused.

“I didn’t,” Brady protested.  “Then I went home and Flooed my parents.”

Anger drained away.  “They knew, didn’t they?” Grant concluded dully, earning a nod from his employee.  “And?”

Brady straightened up to his full height.  “And I don’t care, Grant.  My parents don’t know these kids, but I _do_.  They could be werewolves for all I care.”

_Easy to say,_ Grant thought to himself.  But he didn’t intend to call Brady out; he’d simply keep an eye on the situation.  In the meantime…  “Okay, Brady, tell me how we make this idea of yours work.”

Brady nodded and started outlining his tentative plan.

* * * * *

Lance and Alanna sank down, all but hiding in the back row of Mr. Owens’ class.  The other students didn’t seem to even notice them at first, a development that pleased both teenagers.  The less notice they could attract, the better in their books.  Though Mr. Owens saw them, he didn’t draw any attention to their arrival as he continued to lecture on the spell of the day.  Lance perked up a bit as their teacher explained how even a simple spell could have devastating consequences if it was used in the right way.

“Now,” Mr. Owens clapped his hands together.  “Who can think of a way to use the _Locomotor_ **(1)** spell in a fight?”

The siblings traded looks, considering the question as other students immediately piped up with the obvious tactics of tripping your opponent or making something fly into your opponent’s legs or ankles.  Mr. Owens applauded all the students who’d spoken up, though his eyes seemed to travel towards the pair at the back of the room.  Then Alanna thrust her hand into the air.

“Yes, Alanna?” Mr. Owens asked immediately, his entire countenance brightening.

Alanna nearly quailed as the entire class turned towards her, but then her back straightened and she replied, “You could use the _Locomotor_ spell to lift up something big enough to stand on, then use it to get to a higher position or as a platform to fight from.”

Some of her classmates scoffed, but others looked curious as to whether Alanna’s idea would work.  Mr. Owens’ expression turned thoughtful; he rubbed his chin as he mentally worked his way through the girl’s proposal.  When he spoke, his tone was still considering.  “Getting to a higher position, certainly,” he agreed.  “But I’m not quite sure how you would go about maintaining the _Locomotor_ spell while you’re casting _other_ spells, Alanna.”

“What if you teamed up with someone else?” a boy in the front row called.

“No,” another girl disagreed, “What if you already had the spell on something before the fight started?”

In what seemed like no time at all, the class was excitedly trading ideas and theories for how to make a flying platform you could cast spells from.  Confused, Alanna glanced over at her brother; he smirked back at her, then leaned in close.  “Tech-borns, remember?  Video games, movies, TV shows, take your pick.”

Violet eyes gleamed as Alanna understood.  “Wonder how many of them want to be real-life Jedi?” she joked.

“Nah,” a new voice cut in; the siblings looked up at a cheerful redheaded boy with green eyes and a generous helping of freckles across his face and on the bridge of his slightly upturned nose.  “ _I_ want to be a biotic,” he announced, striking a pose.

The purebloods traded confused looks, then gave their fellow student an inquiring expression.

He grinned at them.  “ _Mass Effect_ ,” he explained.  When the blank looks didn’t abate, he rolled his eyes in a good-natured fashion.  “I’m Ryan,” he introduced himself.

Lance indicated his sister.  “She’s Alanna, I’m Lance.”  One eyebrow arched.  “And unless I miss my guess, you’re talking about a _video game_ , aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” Ryan confirmed happily.  “My brother introduced me to it.”

Alanna shifted back as the two boys settled into a slightly wary give and take, neither completely sure of the other, but willing to see where things went.  Before she could start feeling neglected and bereft, two girls she’d known at school descended, exclaiming over how _cool_ it was to have _wandless_ magic and demanding to know if _they_ could do wandless magic, too.  The rest of the lesson flew by as the tech-borns enthusiastically debated how they could adapt magic spells to recreate their favorite movie/video game/book/TV show scenes.

* * * * *

Mr. Taylor looked a bit taken aback when practically the whole of Mr. Owens’ class insisted on watching the two Wild Mages duel.  At first Lance and Alanna were nervous and on edge, but as the spells flew, they settled into the fight, trading their usual taunts as the duel heated up.  Latin spells went by the wayside in favor of Old Magic; the siblings ducked and dodged almost as much as they threw spells.  Then Alanna cast an Old Magic shield and started hurling Latin spells with her wand.  Lance returned the favor with his own wand, casting a _Protego_ powerful enough to absorb every single one of Alanna’s spells.  He eyed his sister’s shield, then smirked and knelt to rest one hand on the ground.  “ _Ic frēose se asigen rén_ **(2)**.”

Ice spread out rapidly from where Lance’s hand touched the ground.  Alanna attempted to jump over the ice before it reached her; although she succeeded, she slipped on the ice as she landed and fell hard, crying out as her shoulder struck the cold, hard surface.  Lance went white and forgot the duel entirely as he immediately melted the ice and practically flew to his sister’s side.  The two teachers hustled onto the dueling platform and Mrs. Taylor appeared out of nowhere, ready with the school’s first-aid kit.

Alanna whimpered as she was carefully lifted up enough for the teachers to check her shoulder.  Lance hovered, his expression a mix of anguish and uncertainty.  After a minute, Mr. Taylor waved Mrs. Taylor over.  “I think it’s just bruised,” he announced.

Mrs. Taylor drew her wand, flicking it in a diagnostic motion.  She nodded as she inspected the results.  “Bruised,” she confirmed softly.  “I would say you landed wrong, sweetheart,” the blonde woman added in Alanna’s direction.

“Hurts,” Alanna whispered.

A swift _Indolentia_ **(3)** drew a sigh of relief from the girl, then she was helped to her feet.  She traded looks with her stricken brother, then both started at the sound of applause.  To their mutual shock, their tech-born classmates were on their feet and cheering for _both_ of them.  As the whooping and cheering continued, the siblings slowly started to realize that Shiloh _wasn’t_ like the Toronto School of Magic…they weren’t going to be ostracized and turfed out simply for being born different.

The point was driven home when the pair was surrounded by kids who wanted to know if _they_ could learn Old Magic, too.

 

[1] Latin for ‘place set in motion’

[2] Old English for ‘I freeze the fallen rain’

[3] Latin for ‘freedom from pain’


	4. Best of Both Worlds

Lance lay on his bed in front of his laptop, debating on what direction he wanted to go with his latest academic paper for English class.  He was royally tempted to add in details about _The Odyssey_ that were only known in the wizarding world, but he knew that wouldn’t fly tech-side.  After all, his teachers at St. John’s had no way to verify anything from the magical world.  It was a bit of shame, though…the wizarding world copies of _The Odyssey_ were much more detailed and preserved parts of the story that the techie world had clearly lost over the centuries.

In the end, the teenager tapped out another two paragraphs, doing his best to steer clear of the more… _wizardly_ …parts of _The Odyssey_ as he finished up his paper.  He sighed as he read it over one last time.  It still wasn’t up to what most of his classmates were writing, but it was much better than pretty much _all_ of his papers from summer school.  Essays he understood…it was analyzing and dissecting the stories that he was still having trouble figuring out how to do.

English paper done, he turned his attention to his family grimoire, yanking out a notebook to scrawl out his thoughts and theories.  Knowing that his ancestors had once taught all they could about the Old Magic didn’t make it easier to figure out _how_.  He and ‘Lanna had, in the end, asked for Merlin to help them with the preliminary lesson plans for their fellow students at Shiloh.  The ancient warlock’s laughter hadn’t been encouraging, but, in the end, he’d pointed them in the right direction and warned them not to expect instant results.  There had, after all, been a reason that the Old Religion had died out in favor of Latin magic.

The siblings hadn’t held back, solemnly warning their classmates that it would be _at least_ a year before they’d see solid results with even their first handful of Old Magic spells.  Certainly some of their fellow students had lost interest at that point, but others hadn’t.  And, to the pair’s utter, complete shock, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor had joined the lessons, determined to learn just as much as the students about Old Magic.

* * * * *

Greg resisted the urge to beam proudly as Principal Kahl outlined his _nipotes’_ progress in the short time they’d been at the school.  They were still behind where they _should_ have been, but they were in much better shape than they’d been at the beginning of the summer.  Oh, he still had to keep on top of them at home…they seemed to regard their mysterious research project as more important than their schoolwork for some reason…but he could do that.

“If they keep up their current progress, I don’t see any reason why they couldn’t graduate right on time,” Principal Kahl finished.  “Frankly, I wish all my students put in this kind of work and effort.”

The Sergeant sobered.  “They’ve been through quite a lot,” he pointed out, silently raising the observation that his kids were more mature than most teenagers their age.

Speculation skewered Parker for an instant, then the principal moved on.  “There _is_ one thing I do need to bring to your attention.”

“And that is?”

The gray-haired woman flashed an ever so brief smile.  “As much as I appreciate students who take their library books seriously, we _do_ need the books your niece has checked out in the past several weeks returned or renewed.”

“I’ll handle it,” Greg promised.  “If I could have a list…?”

Principal Kahl handed it over and the negotiator glanced over it, one eyebrow rising at the list of books…more than fifteen books on several different topics.  Well…at least he knew his niece was _reading_.

* * * * *

Clark restrained a grin as he read over the sheet of math problems his ‘cousin’ was having trouble with.  “Got your calculator?” he asked over the top of the sheet.

Lance gave him a surprised look.  “I thought I was supposed to do this stuff without a calculator,” he pointed out.

“Not graphing problems like this one,” Clark retorted.  “It’d take you _forever_ to do ‘em by hand, plus I think this chapter’s more about teaching you how to use the calculator than solving the problems.”

The brunet shrugged and pulled out his calculator.  When Clark saw it, he groaned and went to fetch his backpack.  He came back with the bag, slung it onto a chair, then pulled out _his_ calculator.  The teen tilted it towards Lance.  “See the difference?”

“It’s bigger?”

The older teenager handed over the calculator.  “It’s a graphing calculator,” he explained as Lance tentatively poked and prodded at the device.  “You can use mine tonight and I’ll tell Mom you need one of your own ASAP.  I can’t _believe_ you got through summer school without one.”

“But what do I _do_ with it?”

Clark smirked and hauled his chair over to be right next to his ‘cousin’.  “I’ll show you,” he promised.

* * * * *

“Uncle Wordy?”  The brunet constable looked up from his book, arching a brow in both question and invitation.  Alanna sidled in close, slipping her laptop onto the table in front of them.  “I’m having trouble with my laptop,” she explained.

Wordy winced.  “That might be more a question for Spike, kiddo.”

“Uncle Spike’s sick today.”

Good point.  Wordy worked his way sideways.  “Then let’s go talk to Lou.”

The redhead perked up and eagerly carted her laptop after Wordy as he scouted around for his teammate.  When he spotted Lou, he gestured for ‘Lanna to stay put, then headed for the workout room, poked his head in, and called, “Lou, you’re up!”

“For what?” Lou questioned.

“ ‘Lanna has a tech question,” Wordy reported.

The tan-skinned constable slid off his treadmill and headed over with a grin on his face.  “And Spike’s out with the flu,” he drawled.

“Yep.”

The two constables headed back to Alanna and pointed her towards a conference room since Team Two was using the briefing room.  Once inside, Alanna set her laptop up.  “The mouse is being funny,” she explained.

“Show me,” Lou urged.

Wordy peeked over his teammate and his niece’s shoulders as Alanna brought up her web browser and clicked on a button to scroll through the browser’s many, many tabs.  Wordy’s eyebrows arched as, instead of scrolling, the tabs ‘shuddered’ for an instant, then went still again.  Alanna switched to the laptop’s trackpad and succeeded in scrolling through the tabs, but as soon as she touched her wireless mouse, the tabs flew all the way to the left and utterly _refused_ to move right again.

Lou took over, playing with various settings, frowning deeper and deeper the longer he couldn’t solve the mystery.  Finally, he shut the little computer down and pulled out the USB dongle for the mouse before starting the computer up again.  When the computer came up, he slid it over to Alanna so she could type in her password, then reclaimed the machine.  Gingerly, he plugged the USB dongle back in; all three of them stared when the computer promptly reported that it was installing drivers.

“Wasn’t it already installed?” Wordy questioned.

“Yeah, man,” Lou confirmed as he opened up the browser.  Cautiously, he clicked his way through the multitude of tabs, shaking his head in bemusement when the mouse behaved _perfectly_.

“You fixed it!” Alanna cried in delight; she hugged Lou enthusiastically.

Lou’s bemusement was clear.  “I think it fixed itself,” he corrected.  “But you’re welcome, Alanna.”  He nudged the laptop towards Alanna.  “Let me know if anything starts acting up again.”

“Copy,” Alanna agreed at once, her eyes shining.

Once she was gone, Wordy and Lou regarded each other; Wordy smirked and deliberately ruffled his teammate’s fuzzy, buzzcutted hair.  “Attaboy, backup genius,” he teased.

“I’m gonna tell Spike you said that,” Lou threatened.

Wordy laughed outright.  “I’ll just distract him,” he retorted.  “I heard a few interesting stories from Sam the other day.  Something about all his characters dying of scurvy in _Oregon Trail_.”

Lou snickered.  “Man, if _anyone_ was ever able to _beat_ that game, it’d be news to _me_.”

“I was more of a _Pong_ guy myself,” Wordy admitted cheerfully.

“Talk about old-school,” Lou immediately retorted.

“Yep, that’s me,” Wordy confessed at once.  “I’m so old-school I barely know how to work those newfangled smart things.”

The less-lethal specialist’s smirk grew.  “So…did they have game controllers in _your_ day or did you just twitch wires to make the games work?”

“Hey,” Wordy mock-objected, “I’m _good_ at twitching wires!”

“More like cutting them,” Sam interjected from the doorway.  His teammates looked up at the sniper’s Cheshire Cat grin.  “Come on, we got a warrant.”

“Yes!” Wordy cheered.

* * * * *

“Brady, take a look at this,” Grant instructed, tossing a small booklet down in front of his employee.

Brady picked up the slim volume.  “What’s this, Grant?”

“The official rules for the dueling circuit,” Grant replied, plunking himself down in the seat opposite Brady’s.  “I’ve already been through it twice.”

“For?”

Grant huffed, but explained.  “Trying to see if Wild Mages are allowed to compete.”

Brady’s eyes widened.  “And?”

A shrug.  “I don’t see anything about it at all.  Just some rules about what kinds of magic can be used in the actual duels.”

“But you want me to take a look?”

“Yeah.”  Grant sighed.  “I want to be one-hundred percent sure before I tell them.”

Brady flipped the book open.  “I’ll let you know,” he promised.

* * * * *

“Would you go back?” Alanna asked her brother as they tucked their homework away one evening.

“To where?” Lance counter-inquired, cocking his head to the side.

“Magic school.”

Lance considered, debating the pros and cons.  “You mean…if our magic weren’t an issue any more?”

“Yeah.”

For several more seconds, Lance thought hard.  Then he shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because…”  Lance hesitated, uncertainty filtering in.  Then his jaw firmed.  “Because I want to be a cop.  I want to be the first wizard in history to be a cop and _then_ an Auror.”  Sapphire shimmered with determination.  “I want to be the first _magical_ SRU Auror, sis.”

“The best of both worlds,” Alanna murmured, earning a sharp nod.  “We couldn’t have that before, could we?”

Lance shook his head again.  “But now we can,” he pointed out.  He looked his sister over.  “What about you?”

It was Alanna’s turn to think hard and her words were just as soft and hesitant.  “I…I want to be an inventor.  I want to help create the runic technology; I want to make it _better_.”

“One step at a time, sis.”

The younger girl sniffled.  “Do you…remember what Mom told us?”

Lance stilled.  “Always,” he whispered.

And as the moon rose, its light shining through the windows of the small apartment, the words their mother had spoken seemed to swirl around the room, full of promise.

_If you cannot be safe, my own, be_ magnificent _!_

 

_~ Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the Year of Our Lord 2019, Happy Easter, ya'll! Christ is Risen; He is Risen, indeed!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this look at how Lance and Alanna found a new school and started _really_ learning how to live tech-side. After all, when you've hit the bottom, the only direction left is up.
> 
> Happy Easter and Keep the Peace!


End file.
